Category Archives: Reading

Okay…silly thing I need to know. I was looking at a ladies magazine in the doctor’s office a few months ago and noticed a book in a column about new books being released/book reviews…Okay I don’t know what magazine this was, or what month either! I just know the cover of the book they were promoting was pretty art, mostly green colors, with a woman lying on a bed with long blonde hair, the best I remember….The description said it was set in the South. That is what caught my eye…But I’ve forgotten all the other details. We went back to the doctor’s office, and I looked through every mgazine and couldn’t find this. Are there any of you ladies out there that subscribe to ladies magazines that might be able to thumb through and if you find it, give me the name and author?? I would be so appreciative!

I done the same thing last year, when I seen the prettiest decorating scheme in Southern Living magazine….It had one of my favorite colors-turquoise, in all of the rooms! I should have written it all down, but didn’t, on either occasion! I thought I would remember the details, but no….

“For one thing, if women’s role as nurturer and housekeeper is written into the divinely ordained scheme of things, why should something so very natural need to be taught to them? Shouldn’t these skills be innate? And mightn’t they best be taught in the context of the home, not the classroom?”

I could write so much on this topic, and probably get too carried away and maybe fall off my soapbox…lol, so I’ll leave it to YOU to comment…

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple’s self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o’ercast,
They always must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, ’tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own valleys: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city’s din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I’ll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end!
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, through flowers and weed.

New York Times Article on the beloved “Cherry Dress“…Delightful read! It tells me dresses are still alive, even in St. Louis, NY and other metropolitan cities…Some things change, but we still have Easter dresses!!

One day as the Little Red Hen was scratching in a field, she found a grain of wheat.

“This wheat should be planted,” she said. “Who will plant this grain of wheat?”
“Not I,” said the Duck.

“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

Soon the wheat grew to be tall and yellow.

“The wheat is ripe,” said the Little Red Hen. “Who will cut the wheat?”
“Not I,” said the Duck.

“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

When the wheat was cut, the Little Red Hen said, “Who will thresh the wheat?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.
“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

When the wheat was threshed, the Little Red Hen said, “Who will take this wheat to the mill?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.
“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

She took the wheat to the mill and had it ground into flour. Then she said, “Who will make this flour into bread?”

“Not I,” said the Duck.
“Not I,” said the Cat.

“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

She made and baked the bread. Then she said, “Who will eat this bread?”

“Oh! I will,” said the Duck.
“And I will,” said the Cat.

“And I will,” said the Dog.

“No, No!” said the Little Red Hen. “I will do that.” And she did.

No, she didn’t!? Oh my goodness!

I never really thought about it, but this story seems to me to be very selfish. If I were the Little Red Hen, I would gladly do all of these things and offer some bread to the seemingly lazy friends.

Isn’t it said that we are to be a servant in the bible? Aren’t we as homemakers in charge of all these things and more?

I’m prone to think this is a little on the feminist side, actually thinking about it for a few days now and wondered just what the intention of the story was about when written.

Of course we give and give. We work and work. But we are blessed by our willingness to be a keeper of the home. No, we aren’t suppose to be doormats or pushovers, but we are suppose to be giving!

Now of course Little Red Hen might have been single and had no family to speak of, except her friends. In that case she might have needed to have been a little more careful in choosing her friends…lol

It just hit me wrong somehow that a beautiful, industrious, little red hen would be so selfish! After all it was her idea to plant the wheat in the first place…lol

Now in my opinion the story should have went somewhat like this:

Upon finding a grain of wheat, the little red hen tells her friends what could be done with it. She should have told them if they would help, one day there would be more grain and they could bake bread and have a feast…But she didn’t tell her friends of her intentions, did she? She just asked for their help constantly. Maybe her friends knew how selfish she was and knew that she had no intention of sharing the bounty.

Now I’m not overlooking the laziness of all of her friends, at all! And perhaps we need to be a little introspective of this trait as well.

Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it…Perhaps this book should have been called Lazy Friends and the Selfish Little Red Hen.

All day long I had been very busy; picking up trash, cleaning bathrooms and scrubbing floors. My grown children were coming home for the weekend. I went grocery shopping and prepared for a barbecue supper, complete with ribs and chicken. I wanted everything to be perfect. Suddenly, it dawned on me that I was dog-tired. I simply couldn’t work as long as I could when I was younger. “I’ve got to rest for a minute,” I told my husband, Roy, as I collapsed into my favorite rocking chair. Music was playing, my dog and cat were chasing each other and the telephone rang.A scripture from Psalm 46 popped into my mind. “Be still, and know that I am God.” I realized that I hadn’t spent much time in prayer that day. Was I too busy to even utter a simple word of thanks to God? Suddenly, the thought of my beautiful patio came to mind. I can be quiet out there, I thought. I longed for a few minutes alone with God.Roy and I had invested a great deal of time and work in the patio that spring. The flowers and hanging baskets were breathtaking. It was definitely a heavenly place of rest and tranquility. If I can’t be still with God in that environment, I can’t be still with Him anywhere, I thought. While Roy was talking on the telephone, I slipped out the backdoor and sat down on my favorite patio chair. I closed my eyes and began to pray, counting my many blessings.A bird flew by me, chirping and singing. It interrupted my thoughts. It landed on the bird feeder and began eating dinner as I watched. After a few minutes it flew away, singing another song. I closed my eyes again. A gust of wind blew, which caused my wind chimes to dance. They made a joyful sound, but again I lost my concentration on God. I squirmed and wiggled in my chair. I looked up toward the blue sky and saw the clouds moving slowly toward the horizon. The wind died down. My wind chimes finally became quiet.Again, I bowed in prayer. “Honk, honk,” I heard. I almost jumped out of my skin. A neighbor was driving down the street. He waved at me and smiled. I waved back, happy that he cared. I quickly tried once again to settle down, repeating the familiar verse in my mind. Be still and know that I am God.

The backdoor opened. My husband walked outside. “I love you,” he said. “I was wondering where you were.” I chuckled, as he came over and kissed me, then turned around and went back inside.

“Where’s the quiet time?” I asked God. My heart fluttered. There was no pain, only a beat that interrupted me yet again. This is impossible, I thought. There’s no time to be still and to know that God is with me. There’s too much going on in the world and entirely too much activity all around me.

Then it suddenly dawned on me. God was speaking to me the entire time I was attempting to be still. I remembered the music playing as I’d begun my quiet time. He sent a sparrow to lighten my life with song. He sent a gentle breeze. He sent a neighbor to let me know that I had a friend. He sent my sweetheart to offer sincere sentiments of love. He caused my heart to flutter to remind me of life. While I was trying to count my blessings, God was busy multiplying them.

I laughed to realize that the “interruptions” of my quiet time with God were special blessings He’d sent to show me He was with me the entire time.

"Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with loving kindness and tender mercies; Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's."
(Psalm 103:1-5)

For those of you with opposing views: This is not a "debate" forum. If you disagree, then find another blog to read.